


224 - Bilingual Baby & Girlf

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Dad Van, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “ You and Van have a little girl, Van has to start tour on her birthday but he’s able to walk her to school before he actually has to leave. then van calls you up and feels really bad that he couldn’t be there to celebrate with you two so you and Van set up an idea that when schools done & your lil girl starts summer holidays U 2 get 2 spend it all on tour w van & get to visit some of the places & do the cheesy tourist stuff altogether” and “one story in which the girl who van is dating is not english and one day he catches her sining songs in a language he cannot understand (any foreign language, really) and first he laughs but then he sees that she is homesick and he asks her to show him songs?”





	224 - Bilingual Baby & Girlf

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you: @chestinfect-me helped with the translating of Spanish and general info on the culture. It was important to me that I didn’t misrepresent anything or offend anyone. Iara was instrumental to that. Thank you so much! Thank you to the Anons that messaged with some details about Mexico, and to @emmvamo (TUMBLR USERNAMES)

The intention had never been to actually move to the U.K. You had fallen in love with London when you visited on an exchange in high school. When you went to university you did another longer exchange and saw more than just the one city. It was wildly different to everything you knew in Mexico; they were almost polar opposites. In your last month there you met Van and knew you'd never be able to stay away.

For two years you flew between Mexico, the U.K., or where he was in the world. It was exhausting for both of you but it didn't make sense to move your entire life to his place in Chester considering he was hardly there anyway. But then, a baby. Sofía rolled into the world unplanned but very loved. She changed everything. A decision had to be made about where she would grow up. Her blue eyes and pale complexion called for English grey skies to not burn her precious skin. But your role as primary caregiver, the stay at home mum, called for the home you'd always known in Mexico.

From the beginning, Van said he would do whatever you wanted. He said that he pretty much lived overseas, away from his family anyway. You knew the decision should have considered Van and yourself, but you really only thought of Sofía. You wanted to give her the best opportunity to flourish in the world, to have too much opportunity. You researched education systems and were annoyed to discover that the U.K. constantly outranked Mexico. There were a million reasons for that, many based in privilege, but it was a fact nonetheless. Maybe Sofía wouldn't learn all the things you wanted her to through a Westernised system, but that is what you and Van were for. Another critical factor was that in the U.K. Mary and Bernie would be around to help when Van was away. Your own parents still worked long hours. There was more community for Sofía in the U.K. It broke your heart, but it was true. You packed up and shipped yourself quickly after the decision was made.

The first year was the hardest, even though Van was home for the entire twelve months. You had hoped that in the midst of new-baby highs and establishing your life that you wouldn't miss Mexico too much. If Van never got homesick, maybe you could be the same. On your exchanges, you hardly thought of Mexico, even with its laid back lifestyle and unprocessed and entirely delicious food that the U.K. had nothing on. But, Sofía was too well behaved. She slept through the night and never got sick and hardly ever made a fuss. You'd been a loud baby, and by all accounts so had Van, so Sofía's introverted nature was a little unexpected. Happy that she was happy, you didn't overthink it much. What you did overthink though, was home. In the space and time left when Sofía just slept or played quietly, all you could do was think. Mexico. The place where everything slowed down enough that kids could be kids and you had time to figure yourself out. The bright and bold colours. The celebrations of life and love and culture. The people. Oh God, the people that you had left behind…

Van hadn't noticed your homesick sadness. He accounted for any moodiness as being tired from looking after Sofía. So, when he found you crying on the couch he was confused. He pulled you into his arms, glancing over at three-month-old Sofía rolling around on a blanket on the floor.

"Babe? What's happened?" he asked.

"Nada, estoy bien," you replied. "I'm fine,"

"You don't seem fine,"

"Cansada,"

"Just tired? You sure?" You could tell he didn't fully believe you. What could he do about it though? You nodded and sat up, wiping your face and moving to pick up Sofía. Van took her from you. "Here. Let me. You go have a bath or a nap or something, 'kay? Ve a descansar. I'll make 'er some lunch."

It went on like that for a couple of months. By the time Sofía was five-months-old, Van was officially concerned. He talked on the phone to people about you, his fast speaking and hushed tone making it hard for you to translate. He'd been Googling answers and not clearing his search history; post-natal depression, Mexican recipes, Spanish lessons. Your heart broke for him, but you were scared that if you said you were homesick that he'd pack your new life up and send you home. The thought of that was exhausting, and you did not want to be responsible for ripping Sofía and Bernie apart. All you could do was try to keep your feelings contained better.

The whole 'conceal, don't feel' mentality lasted a month. You didn't hear Van appear in the doorway over the sound of your own singing. Sofía was falling asleep on your chest, and you were singing her a lullaby you'd been sung as a baby, while you hung out together on the couch. Van was becoming better at Spanish, but there was no way he'd be able to understand the lyrics. As he listened to your song, goosebumps ran across his skin. It was a haunting sound. Pretty and sad. He could hear it though, how homesick you were. How much you missed your land and culture and family.

"Babe?" he whispered when your song had ended. You looked up at him and watched him cross the room. He sat on his knees next to you. "We can go. Even just for a holiday,"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I do not want that for Sofía. She needs stability,"

"But you miss Mexico."

Hearing someone else say it out loud turned your suppressed and intangible feelings into a concrete fact. Real and painful, you couldn't help but cry. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks. Van watched for a second, then reached out and gently wiped them away.

"I'm not gonna make you do anythin' you don't want to do, but… There's gotta be something I can do?"

…

Van went to Spanish classes until he was fluent. It was hard, but having you at home refusing to speak English helped.

"Babe! I'm gonna be late! Just tell me if you need anything from the shops!" he said, laughing. Sofía giggled at her father's high pitched voice.

"Dijiste que querias ayudar, pues aprende español. Sofia necesita escucharlo todo el tiempo para que lo hable fluido. Y si, necesito cosas. Necesitamos mas paprika, servilletas de papel, y jabon. Gracias,"

"I heard soap. You're talkin' too fast! I've gotta go!"

Van picked up his language textbook, kissed Sofía on the head, then you on the cheek. He was out the door and you looked back over at Sofía.

"Al parecer no va a haber paprika para nosotras..." you said her.

…

You laughed hard when Van said he was going to build you a house. You'd been watching House Hunters International together. "Yeah, we'll make a proper Spanish inspired place!" You wondered what the image in his brain was of 'Spanish inspired.'

It was easy to talk him out of the idea. All you had to do was tell Mary and Bernie. They laughed at him too. The compromise was that you had to redecorate the house and make it "less fuckin' British," as Van put it. Not convinced that interior design could cure homesickness, you figured it wasn't going to hurt Sofía to see more of her culture's artwork on the walls. As online purchases arrived in the mail, pretty stamps from overseas, you could see Van was disappointed. You asked him what he had expected.

"Dunno… Maybe more…"

"Van, if you are going to say anything that makes me think of that bad TexMex place down the road…" you replied. Van grinned.

"Course not! Their burritos aren't even proper, right?"

"Dios, bebe, sos tan blanco."

So, the first year was the hardest, but by the time Sofía celebrated her first birthday, surrounded by family and friends (including those Van flew over from Mexico as a surprise), you were settling into life. All the grand gestures of love and small acts of understanding from Van helped. He did nothing but try to keep you and Sofía happy, and he was getting better and better at it, even if his idea of Mexican culture was still horribly based on his experience with TexMex restaurant chains. That cultural appropriation would take a while to undo.

…

It took a great deal of adjustment to cope with Van going on tour again. His priorities had shifted so much though that the touring they did was for short, intense bursts. You just had to made it work. As you sat in Mary's kitchen, watching Bernie feed Sofía pieces of cut up avocado, you began to feel okay about it all.

"Aguacate!" Sofía yelled, opening her mouth for more.

"Yeah, mate, aguacate," Bernie replied, picking up the odd Spanish word here and there. Avocado was Sofía's favourite food, so aguacate was an important one to know.

"Coping, love?" Mary asked, putting a mug of tea in front of you. Tea just appeared from nowhere in the U.K., requested or not. Lucky you genuinely liked it.

"Yes. Just have to remember that everyone wants to help. We do not have to sit at home waiting for him to come home," you replied.

"You'll always miss him. We still do and it's been years."

She had meant it to be reassuring, but it served as a reminder that it would be years. Years of Van being a part time dad, and when you spoke to him over Skype that night and watched him watch Sofía bounce in your lap, you couldn't work out if that hurt you more or him.

…

"Daddy, puedes llevarme a la school?" Sofía asked.

"Mi vida, you know I am," he replied.

You smirked at their shifting language choices from where you were packing her lunchbox in the kitchen. Van picked her up and sat her on the counter.

"Estoy asustada,"

"Scared of what?" Van asked.

Sofía was worried about making friends, but both you and Van assured her that it would be okay. Sofía was a kind natured child. In playgrounds across the city, other kids gravitated to her, calmed by her quiet gentleness.

"Just remember that the other children don't know Spanish like you, okay?" you said to Sofía. Van looked at you with a frown, then refocused on his firstborn, taking her hands in his.

"But it's good that you can speak two languages. Means you're special and smart," Van said, tapping Sofía's head softly. She grinned at him.

You had been there for so many special firsts. Van wanted you to come to the first day of school, but you needed him to have something special too. When Sofía didn't seem overly concerned with you being there, the decision was made. 

You sat on the step to your house and watched Van buckle Sofía into the back seat. He closed the door and stood next to the car.

"Just come," he said. You shook your head, ever defiant. "I don’t need my own individual memories with her. We’re a family,"

"Yes, but you need to exist in her head separate to me also. There needs to be papá, mamá, y papá y mamá. Now go, you will be late."

Van pouted and walked to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You waved at them as they drove away.

…

You sat next to Sofía and watched her talk to Van over Skype. They spoke entirely in Spanish, because she didn't have anyone else to speak it to besides you. She was helping teach her friend at school. Tia's parents were in the process of picking a second language for her, tossing up between French and Spanish. When Sofía and Tia became best friends, they opted for Spanish. Sofía was stoked to have a student of her very own.

Van asked what else Sofía got for her birthday. She listed everything and told him about the party - excessive for a six-year-old in your opinion, and not enough in Van's. He was trying to make up for not being there though. In the lead up to the day more and more things arrived in the mail. Decorations and gifts and things for you too. The party was a success, and Sofía had fallen asleep happy, but she still missed Van.

"¿Cuando vendrás a casa?" she asked.

You could see it in Van's face that he was hurting. You just had to miss him. Sofía just had to miss him. He had to miss you both.

…

The tickets arrived in your email inbox on the Monday of the last week of school before mid-year holidays. A holiday abroad then. You packed the bags on Friday night and boarded the flight Saturday morning. Sofía spent the ride speaking in Spanish to some of the flight attendants, and in English to others. A mischievous act designed to confuse others and amuse herself. Van had taught her that.

Walking out of the airport, you had expected to find one of the crew, maybe Larry if you were lucky. However, standing next to cab in the Australian heat was Van. You'd prepared for Melbourne better than him. You were in shorts and a t-shirt, not full length all black. You shook your head at him as you put Sofía on the ground and let her run to him. He held her high and spun her around, then put an arm around you and pulled you into a family hug.

"Missed you," he said into your hair, kissing your neck as he stood up straight.

After spending a few hours at the hotel, letting Sofía nap and you shower and rest, you headed out into the unfamiliar city. Van loved Australia. So many of the stories he told, the ones fundamental to who he was, linked back to the place. His band name and first memory of music. His parents' love. The beginning of his IVF conception miracle. As you followed him down alleyways bright with street art and past pretty cafes, you listened to him tell Sofía all about his life and how important places could be. It made you pine for home and you decided next time you could holiday together, you'd go back to Mexico.

Ending up in a shopping mall, you watched Van help Sofía build a bear. She opted for the light brown bare because it reminded her of your glowing skin. She mismatched teddy clothes and costumes and ended up with a thing that was half knight, half princess…? She named the bear Larry, completely unprompted. He was going to love that.

"That's a beautiful princess," the girl at the store said to Sofía.

"Es un príncipe,"

"Ah, she says it's a boy, a prince," Van translated.

Sofía looked up at you. "Boys can wear dresses, right?" she asked you in an unsure whisper. You nodded with a smile.

When Larry the bear was safe in his box, you left the mall and had a late lunch and headed back to the hotel. In your room, you watched Sofía show the real life Larry her bear. As predicted, he was stoked.

"Why's he in a dress?" Larry asked. Sofía made the same frowny face and looked at you, confused.

"Mate, teddies can do what they want," Van said from where he was laying on the bed, using the hotel's wifi to check his hardly used Instagram account.

"And people. People can wear what they want," you added.

Larry didn't really get it, but nodded and returned his attention to Sofía. "Ah… It's a good dress. The sparkly bits go with his sword," he said. Sofía nodded, happy with the understanding.

After dinner with the guys and a short walk around a couple of blocks, you crawled into the hotel bed. Sofía refused to sleep on the little trundle bed, and instead insisted on curling around Van. Understandable; you wanted the same thing.

"Buenas noches papi," she whispered to him through the darkness.

"Buenas noches mi vida."

Van fell asleep with one arm wrapped around you and the other around Sofía.

…

When you woke up, Van was sitting on the hotel desk, legs out on the chair. His notebook was in his lap and he was watching you and Sofía.

"Forgot how beautiful you are when you sleep," he whispered in that nonchalant tone that meant he wasn't trying to be smooth, he was just an authentic romantic.

You carefully got up, covering Sofía's little body with the blanket. Standing between Van's legs, you reached out to hold his face in your hands. The shadow under his eyes and the red marks on his cheeks were giveaways that he'd not been sleeping well; that was a symptom of touring though. You kissed each other gently, quietly.

"Te extraño cuando te vas," you told him, like he wasn't already painfully aware of the impact his job had on his family. 

Van slid off the desk and pulled you to the ensuite. Without speaking, you undressed each other and showered. Standing under the hot water, holding him close, you let your body know his again. The time cut short, you stepped apart when scratching and giggling at the door became audible.

Dressed in fluffy hotel robes, you ate room service breakfast on the bed and asked Sofía what she wanted to do. Van read a list of Melbourne's attractions, and as soon as there was mention of seahorses and fish, Sofía was in. The aquarium was it then.

Sofía ran from tank to tank, watching in awe at all the life. Van had borrowed one of Bob's cameras and took as many photos of you and Sofía as he could. When he wasn't doing that, he was holding your hand and kissing the side of your face, along your jawline. You could tell by the way he was touching you that when night fell, Sofía would be blessed with a Larry and co. sleepover so that you and Van could have some time together. He was itching for you.

Sofía found the crocodile's liar and stood at the glass watching Pinjarra - one of the largest saltwater crocs in Australia. "La amo, I love her," Sofía whispered to you when you went over. You agreed that she was very, very cool. Sofía didn't skip away to see something else. She stayed on the spot, mesmerised by the creature. Standing next to Van, you asked him if he thought she was born innately loving crocodiles and alligators, or if it was a result of seeing his second album's cover so much as a baby. He shrugged and decided both. Nature and nurture.

The intention had never been to move to the U.K. It had never been to have a baby so young and so unplanned. But, then again there was Van and polar opposite climates and a beautiful, so fucking beautiful, bilingual happy child. You had learnt to control the homesickness and had taught Van to speak your native tongue. He had respected your culture and encouraged you to use your own language. There would always be challenges to overcome, but more than the promise of that was the surety of your love for your family and their love for you. Cada día el amor era más que ayer y no tanto como mañana.


End file.
